by Kira Ward
“Okay, that’s not an excuse,” Kyle added. “What I did was so wrong. But you’re my best friend, and I really don’t want to lose that.”
“You should have thought of that before.”
“I should have been more honest with you, should have told you how I felt about you a long time ago. I just thought you would come to it on your own someday, you know? Haven’t you ever had a crush on someone and hoped they would notice you before they learned the truth?”
“No. I’ve always been honest with the people in my life. You know that.”
He glanced up at the front of my mom’s house. “Are they on again?”
I groaned, my stomach suddenly deciding to roll over. I didn’t know what it was, but I was pretty sure I was about to lose my lunch. I squatted down, pressing my arms hard against my belly while I waited for the sensation to get worse or better. Kyle was immediately next to me, tugging my hair back out of my face and rubbing my back like a fussy mother with a newborn.
Bad metaphor.
“That bad?”
“They’re getting married.”
Kyle emitted a funny noise that wasn’t that far from the snort I think I produced when my dad told me what he was planning.
“She’s so happy, like the last twenty-some odd years hadn’t happened. And you know what he said when I asked why he didn’t do this sooner?”
“What?”
“That he didn’t want to be a dad. That she made her own choice when she decided to have me and she knew it meant that he wouldn’t be a part of things.”
“Damn, Sloane. I’m sorry.”
I shook my head even as tears began to stream down my face. “Everything’s falling apart, Kyle. And I don’t know what to do.”
He put his arm around me and pulled me against his chest. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. Just having his shoulder to cry on was a relief. The nausea passed, but the fear that had settled in the pit of my stomach was still there. I wasn’t sure anything would make that disappear.
I stopped by a drug store on the way home, hiding the bag in my backpack in case Major happened to be hanging around when I got to the apartment building. But his truck was gone when I pulled into the lot.
I took it into the bathroom and caught sight of myself in the mirror. My face was red and blotchy, my eyes swollen from crying. I shoved the bag into a deep drawer in the vanity and turned on the water in the shower. Maybe a little pampering was in order.
I went into the bedroom and undressed. When I again caught myself in the mirror, this time the full length hanging on my bedroom wall, I stood in front of it and ran a hand over my belly. I was never a really thin girl, but not overweight, either. Just healthy. But now I found myself wondering what my little round belly would look like with a baby growing inside of it. Would I carry in front like most women do, with my belly growing to the size of a watermelon? Or would I carry differently, my belly round, but not really obviously pregnant?
Would it hurt, having a whole human being growing and moving inside of me? Would I be a complainer, one of those women who expected the whole world to drop what they were doing and cater to my every need? Or would I be a stoic pregnant woman, never complaining, never cursing out the father, never…
The father.
Did Major even want a baby?
That fear seemed to blossom for a minute, blowing up in my chest until it was the only thing that existed. I couldn’t do it on my own. I couldn’t go through that, the pain and the uncertainty, without someone there to talk me through my panic. Would Major be that person? Or was it too much, too soon?
I wasn’t even sure how I felt about him. I mean, damn, the sex was amazing! And I loved sitting with him on the couch, watching tv or talking about something stupid. We’d once had a whole conversation about Star Wars, debating the choice of Disney to reboot the franchise with three new movies that Lucas himself had never gotten around to making. Probably for a reason. Major was strongly on the side of the new movies, arguing that it would introduce a whole new generation to the franchise, while I was against it, figuring the studio should respect the feelings of the creator. I don’t think either of us won the argument, though, because we ended up making out and that led to other things…all our discussions seemed to lead to other things.
But how long would that last?
If I was pregnant and he wanted the baby, wanted to stay with me, would he still find me attractive when I was big and round and tired all the time?
I sighed and headed for the bathroom, but then there was a knock on the door.
Major.
“Hey,” he said when I opened the door, tugging a bathrobe tight around my waist. “I was thinking about grilling a couple of steaks. Want to come over?”
“I was about to take a shower.”
“Okay,” he said, dragging the edge of his thumb against my jaw. “Why don’t you come over when you’re done?”
“You’re dressed up,” I said, noticing his tie for the first time. He wasn’t wearing a suit, but a tie with an oxford shirt and a pair of black jeans that had been starched. A very Texas thing to wear.
“I had a meeting.”
“Yeah? For work?”
“I’m looking for a new project to take on. These guys downtown want someone to fix designs someone did for their new office building.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“It is, actually.”
But there was something about the way his eyes fell to the floor when he said it that made me wonder if there was more to the story than he was telling.
Suspicious mind.
He stepped back and I suddenly didn’t want him to go. I grabbed hold of his tie and tugged him back to me.
“Why don’t you join me?”
A dirty smile replaced the thoughtful expression on his face.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
He slipped his arms around my waist as I turned, kicking the door closed with his foot. He was already tugging at the loose knot holding the robe in place, his hand sneaking under the soft cotton to cup one of my breasts. My nipples were so sensitive I almost cried out. And then he was kissing my neck, and the weight of the day just suddenly left my shoulders.
I untangled myself from his hands and turned, moving the edges of the robe over myself in what I hoped was a tantalizing motion.
“Follow me, big boy,” I said.
He groaned, reaching for me, but I stepped out of his reach at the last second. Then I ducked into the bathroom and tossed the robe out the door, his moan making me giggle as I climbed into the shower.
I think he tripped trying to get his pants off. I heard a thud and a string of curse words that would make a biker blush. But then he was climbing into the shower behind me, his hands reaching for me before he was even through the glass door.
I turned and ran my hand slowly over his bare chest, my fingers playing over the tattoos that lived there. I never thought a guy with tattoos would be my thing. But I was fascinated with the artistry that went into them, and the meaning that caused him to have them placed there in the first place.
He took my hand and tugged me close to him. I always felt swallowed up when he held me close to him like that. I liked it, liked the way it made me feel that nothing could hurt me as long as he wanted me.
He kissed me, his lips sliding slowly over mine, his hand sneaking around my waist to take a handful of my ass and tug me closer to him. There was something sweet clinging to his skin, but it was washed away as we moved back under the water, the heat of it running over our heads and threatening to drown us in our eagerness. But then he pushed me against the wall as he tugged my thigh upward, hooking my leg over his hip. His hardened cock slid perfectly between my legs, pressing against my pussy and along the line of my ass. My clit stood up and screamed for attention even as he leaned into me, as he pushed his hips hard against mine.
I wanted him. Despite everything, despite the fear still burning cold in my b
elly, I wanted him. And that scared me, too.
The wall of the shower was cold, but his body was warm. And his hands were all over me, on my breasts one minute, my ass the next. We kissed like we depended on each other for our next breath. He touched me in places that sent lovely shivers up and down my spine, making the ache in my lower belly impossible to ignore. I wiggled my hips, needing his touch, needing him inside of me. And he seemed more than happy to oblige.
He lifted me up, held me between the wall and his hard body. His penis slid inside of me without any guidance from either of us, as though it had a mind all its own. I wrapped my arms around his neck, giving voice to all the passion that wouldn’t stay inside. He pressed his mouth to my throat, nibbling at the tender flesh there until I wasn’t sure what felt better: his cock inside of me, moving slowly with the gentle rock of his hips, or the delicious pain of his teeth against my neck.
And then he was suckling at my nipples and they were so sensitive…I couldn’t keep the scream inside. He chuckled softly, his lips moving to my ear.
“Someone’s hot tonight.”
I ran my fingers through his wet hair, pulling him closer to me.
“It’s you,” I groaned. “You drive me insane.”
“Feeling’s mutual, baby.”
He kissed me again and I was lost. I forgot about my parents, about Kyle, and the potential bomb of that package I hid in the vanity drawer. All I could think about was how good it felt when he moved against me, how delicious his mouth was on mine, how perfect this moment was. A hot shower alone would no longer have the appeal it once did. This was far more superior to that.
I came so much faster than I ever had before. I tightened my thighs around him, drew him so close that you couldn’t have slipped a hair between us. He held me, his breath coming in quick, heavy puffs against my throat. He held me and stood very still, not speaking, not moving, just watching my orgasm play over my face. And when it was done, he continued to hold me, his lips peppering my jaw with tiny kisses.
And then he pulled away. I was cold, shivering, without the heat of his body against me. When he came back, he shut off the water and wrapped a towel around me, lifting me up as he carried me into the bedroom. He lay me gently, treating me like a fragile doll that might break if he touched me in the wrong place. I closed my eyes as I lay back against the pillows, expecting him to come to me, to make love to me again. But he moved away again.
“What are you doing?”
He ran his hand over my thigh, spreading lotion into my skin.
“Don’t want you to dry out.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
He smiled. “Like it’s such torture to touch your body.”
“I could get used to this.”
“I hope so.”
I rolled over onto my stomach, and he rubbed lotion over my back and my ass, his fingers kneading the tight muscles that hadn’t yet heard the news that we were letting the stress of the day go. When he leaned over me, I could feel his erection nudging at me. I knew he was turned on and was putting off his own pleasure in favor of taking care of me. And that was overwhelming.
How many guys my age were even half that thoughtful?
He rolled me over and I tried to touch him, but he brushed my hand away.
“Lay back.”
“I want to touch you.”
His eyes darkened as he studied me under hooded lids. “If you touch me, I can’t control what’ll happen next.”
I bit my bottom lip to hide the dirty smile that wanted to emerge. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“Could be. You’ve never seen me out of control.”
“Haven’t I?”
He leaned down and bit one of my nipples a little harder than was pleasurable. His eyes moved slowly over me as he sat up again.
“You have no idea.”
“Then show me.”
I sat up and ran my hand over his naked thigh, bit his bottom lip.
“I want you,” I whispered.
He growled softly, grabbing my wrists and trapping my arms behind my back. But I wasn’t exactly powerless. I twisted away from him, managed to get one hand free as I crawled up the mattress. He followed, grabbing me around the waist and tugging me onto his lap. His mouth was rough as he sought my mouth, but I kissed him back just as roughly, my lips already feeling bruised and swollen. I lifted my bottom, straddled him, and pulled him deep inside of me. He cried out against my lips, but he didn’t pull away. In fact, he wrapped his arms around me and tugged me even closer.
We rocked, like he was offering nothing more than comfort, and I was willingly taking it. But our bodies were locked together in the most intimate of ways, and I so wanted him to come inside of me, to fill me with proof that I was the one woman who could push him over that edge, to be the only woman who had the power to turn him on that way.
His breath was coming like he was running a marathon. He couldn’t kiss me anymore, couldn’t catch his breath. So he let his lips slide over my chin, the heat of his mouth washing over me as I ran my fingers through is hair and tugged him closer.
He suddenly stood, catching me by surprise. He slammed my back into the wall, rattling a picture that hung there. His hands under my thighs, he pulled my hips down so that he was pounding as deep inside of me as it was humanly possible to get. It was almost painful, the way he thrust against me, the way the base of his shaft slammed against my clit. But there was something so primitive about it that I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted him to use me, wanted him to forget about everything but how good it was. I wanted him, wanted—
Oh, my God! It felt so good!
We weren’t making love. We were fucking. And it was indescribable.
I buried my nails in his shoulders as my body succumbed to another orgasm. I felt it everywhere, in my pussy, my clit, my belly, even my toes. There had never been anything like it. And still he thrust, still he pounded himself against me. My vision darkened a little. I wasn’t sure how much more I could stand. And then his grip on my thighs became a death grip, the pain only adding to the pleasure. He roared. He literally roared. And I felt his manhood swell just a little bit more, felt the heat of his orgasm burst inside of me. He kept moving, kept thrusting until he simply couldn’t do it anymore. Then he just stood against the wall, me impaled on his pulsing cock, a simple drag of air a thing of the past. I couldn’t catch my breath.
“Fuck me!” He touched my face, brushed my wet hair away from my face. “You okay?”
I nodded, but I couldn’t speak. He carefully carried me back to the bed and lay me down. I grabbed his arm and made him lay beside me, buried my face in his chest.
It took time, but my lungs finally remembered how to breathe.
He kissed me all over my face, his hands moving gently over my body.
“Did I hurt you?”
“I’m okay.”
“Are you sure? I didn’t mean to—”
I pressed my fingers to his lips. “Don’t apologize. That was amazing.”
“It was,” he proclaimed, lifting my hand to press his lips against my palm. “You are fucking amazing.”
I smiled but I was so exhausted I couldn’t even think about keeping my eyes open. I curled up against him and began to drift, happier than I’d thought it was possible to be.
Chapter 25
Major
I was taking a pan of tacos out of the oven when my phone rang. Sloane came up behind me and slipped it out of the front pocket of my jeans, her fingers scraping the side of my cock as she did. It seemed like I was always hard when she was around. And after the other night, I think it was worse than before.
I watched her skip across the room, reading the display on the phone.
“Waterston, Inc.,” she said. “Is that the company you’re thinking about working with?”
“No.”
“Waterston. Isn’t that that big building downtown? The one that employs like half the people in the city?”
�
�I think so.”
“Why would someone be calling you from there?”
I walked over and took the phone from her, shoving it into my back pocket. Then I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her neck.
“It’s Saturday. Why don’t we forget about everything but this? But the here and now?”
She sighed as she leaned back into me. “Sounds good to me.”
I rocked her back and forth for a second, watching the tension slowly leave her face. She’d been pretty stressed lately, between her work load and this thing with her parents. Her mother kept calling, trying to get her to commit to going to her wedding. She didn’t think I noticed, but I did. And I saw how each of those conversations made her lips pucker like she’d just tasted something sour and how it was making her restless at night, causing her to be tired all the time.
I wanted to have a conversation with her father, but I was afraid it would only make things worse for her.
“Go sit on the couch. I’ll get you a glass of wine.”
She turned in my arms and kissed me so softly that it nearly took my breath away.
“Let’s skip the wine tonight. It makes me sleepy, and I want to be fully awake later.”
My body immediately responded to the promise in her words. I kissed her back, then pushed her away from me before dinner could burn and spoil the evening.
“Go sit.”
She smiled, but she turned and walked away. I watched, loving the way her body moved in the jeans she was wearing. I groaned as I turned away, headed back to the kitchen.
I finished the tacos and set a couple on plates. I carried them into the living room where she was curled up under a blanket, the tv remote in her hands. She was flipping through the channels, looking for something to watch. I sat beside her and set her plate on the coffee table before digging into mine. She settled on some lame family movie, one of those ones that always have some sort of moral at the end.
“Do you really like this sort of thing?” I asked between bites.
“Yeah. It’s interesting.”
“Do you really think normal families are like that?”